by Tony Ortiz
Excuse me please, I was just about to leave, she responded.
C’mon Brooke, this is ridiculous. I know I deserve it but you can't ignore me forever, right?
Watch me, Brooke responded sternly.
Ok fine, I'll leave you alone. Just please, read this. I wrote it last night. If after this you don't want to speak to me again, I promise to leave you be.
Brooke didn't respond, but she accepted the letter he handed her and continued on with her business. Throughout the day, she didn't give the letter or Miguel another thought until she had a conversation with Laura around lunch time.
Hey, you missed a bunch in the meeting yesterday, said Laura.
Yea? Responded Brooke. Well, you know what's up. I can't really be around that guy right now.
I can't blame you but, it was kind of refreshing actually. He apologized profusely and came clean about a bunch of stuff.
Like what?
Everything with you for starters, saying how you'll always have a place here no matter what. He also said that he was working with an anti-skipper at times but supposedly just for the money.
What?
Yea, crazy stuff. And the guy he was working with is supposedly one of the people responsible for helping create Trancetol and for it being in OTC supplements.
That's insane, responded Brooke in disbelief.
Yea, he said he's going to cut ties sometime in the near future, but we’ll see.
I haven't been speaking to him at all.
Yea he asked all of us for advice on how to approach you too.
Did you guys tell him to write me a letter?
A letter? No, what are we in the third grade? ‘Are you mad at me? Circle one: yes, no, maybe’.
Hahaha. I'm just asking because he wrote me one. I haven't read it yet though.
Oh, for-real? I thought you were joking. Well, as long as the letter isn't some sort of justification for what he did, consider coming to the next meeting will ya? He seemed genuinely sorry about things and was way more transparent.
Ok cool, thanks Laura. See you later.
The rest of the day was business as usual. That night while in her room, Brooke read Miguel’s letter.
Dear Brooke,
If there was an Asshole award it would be named after me. The way the Oscars are named after that movie buff Oscar guy (I'm completely speculating by the way, I have no idea if there even is an Oscar guy). The point is that what I did was reprehensible. I was motivated by the same blind justice that drives all of us. I don't say that as an excuse, but to say that I now know that every once in a while it's okay to open your eyes and recalibrate that sense of justice with morality. I can't take it back, but I'll gladly spend the rest of my days trying to find an antidote. I wronged you and I'm sorry. You're an intricate part of this team and absolutely belong here. I didn't quite appreciate that before. For as long as you want it to be, this will always be your home. Please accept my deepest apologies.
Sincerely,
Asshole
The next morning, Brooke walked over to Miguel’s station.
Hey.
Oh. Hi Brooke, what's up?
I'm taking lunch orders. Want anything?
I actually made a sandwich this morning. I wasn't expecting you to take my order.
Ok, Brooke responded as she began to walk away.
Hey Brooke, said Miguel.
Yea?
Thanks.
No problem, Asshole.
That same afternoon, Miguel decided to make amends with someone else and made a phone call.
Hey Hector, what's going on? How are you?
Miguel? Hi, not much. What's up?
Thanks for taking my call man.
In all honesty, I didn't recognize the number and probably wouldn't have answered if I did.
Fair enough. I can understand that. What I have to say won't take long though, if you have a minute.
Sure, shoot.
I did you wrong and I wanted to apologize. I was mostly acting on ego and bad information. You didn't deserve any of it. On the contrary, I should have championed your efforts more. So I'm sorry and wanted to let you know that the suspension is lifted, you're back on the team effective immediately ... that's if you still want to be, and I hope to see you soon. Maybe the next Sunday dinner or something.
Wow. Thanks Miguel, I really appreciate that. No promises but I think I will come by and take you up on that dinner.
Ok cool, that's all I ask. Have a good one and thanks again.
Yea, you too. Thanks.
Sunday came and went with no word from Hector. Everyone was anticipating his return after Miguel told them about their conversation. He wasn't returning calls or texts again, which was odd after making amends with everyone. By Wednesday morning, their worry grew. Miguel & Jake setup a dual skip for them to go back a few days to the point where Miguel last spoke to him. That's the latest point they knew of him being fine. Laura stayed back monitoring and the others were on standby just in case they were needed.
They skipped back and reached the hotel Hector was staying at. They watched from a healthy distance away, as to not let on that anything was up. They witnessed him on the phone and continued monitoring him after. Something had to have happened for him not to show up and not respond to any inquiries. Then, that night a shark-gray van with smoked out windows circled the hotel block a few times. It pulled up on the side of the hotel and two guys with ski masks on went into the hotel through the service entrance. Soon after, they could see flashlights being shone in Hectors room, but it was too dark to tell what was going on. They couldn't intervene either ... whoever these folks are, they have to feel as if they were successful in their mission. If not, and they were skippers, they'd just go back to a different point in time and try whatever they were up to again.
Moments later the two men exited the building with Hector who had a worried look on his face. They put him into the back of the Van, and sped off. Miguel and Jake tried running toward the van to try and get the plate information or at least the make and model but it was long gone.
Now that they knew Hector was abducted, they went back to baseline to monitor that day and location but it was a blind spot. So they decided to skip back again and rent a car for the day. Now when the abductors speed off, they have the means to follow. The van ride ended at Dr. Feinstein's medical office. They knew he was being held there and that they wouldn't have much time to get him out before Feinstein did something irreversible. They went back to baseline to put a game-plan together.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ok so what do we know? Miguel asked the team.
Hector was abducted by two guys in a van, Jake said.
They're holding him at Dr. Feinstein's practice, said Laura.
Feinstein is a sick fuck. We know he's behind this but we don't know what his plans are with Hector, said Charlie.
Right. We need an effective way in, said Miguel. No doubt that he has him locked in the back patient room, and has at least one receptionist standing guard there at all times. What's our angle in?
The room went quiet for a bit. Then Brooke said:
Give him what he wants. Another patient.
What do you mean? Asked Jake.
Well, he's obsessed with curbing skip-ability right? So one of you go in there hysterical, frantically describing made-up stories about skipping incidents that you've been experiencing. That'll get you in the building with a purpose. Then you can look for Hector and a way out after.
That’s great Brooke, good thinking said Miguel. To pull this off it'll take all of us though. And we'd need you to monitor the skip. Are you up for that?
Yes, absolutely, responded Brooke as she perked up to the thought of the idea.
Alright, let's design this thing, said Miguel.
I'll get the simulator ready, said Jake.
There's no time for that, we have to go straight in, said Miguel.
Yea, the longer we leave him in there, the more ti
me we’re giving Feinstein, said Laura.
He's probably expecting us too, said Charlie.
Good point, responded Laura.
Exactly, said Miguel. So we can't just ram the side of the building to break down the brick wall. We have to slip him out of there undetected. They can't realize he's not there until we’re long gone.
The team decided to skip back instead of going directly to the medical office while in baseline. Skipping, even if it was only a few hours back, would give them at least some viewable future after. They spent about another hour ironing out details. Then it was go time. Everyone skipped back, while Brooke monitored so she’d have the ability to physically wake someone up if she saw they were in trouble.
Since Dr. Feinstein would recognize him, Miguel stayed in the van they arranged. He’d be the get-away driver. Charlie and Jake carried a disoriented Laura, in through the front door. She was between them, hanging on to their shoulders. She spoke but all that came out were slurred words that just sounded like gibberish. The plan was to distract the receptionist long enough for one of them to get to Hector in the back. They walked in to find that Feinstein smartened up after Hector’s escape. He had a security guard right by the entrance directing foot traffic. He was a big guy that looked like that retired UFC fighter, Tait Fletcher. The one that seems to be in the fight scene of every Action movie ever filmed.
My friend is sick, she needs a doctor. Please hurry! Said Jake.
The guard lets them go by and points them to reception.
Miss, says Charlie, to the seemingly uninterested receptionist. Ms. my friend needs help quickly. She's sick.
Did you try an emergency room? She asked.
She's not physically ill. She keeps, like, hallucinating or something, said Jake.
What year is it?! Laura blurted out. When am I?
Here, take these forms, sit way over there and don't bring them back until they're all filled out.
Jake grabbed the paperwork and they walked toward the empty seats in the adjacent waiting area. Charlie turned back and asked:
Where's the restroom please?
Down the hall, second door on your right, she responded without looking up from her magazine.
Charlie went straight down the hall and began opening doors, to try and find where Hector was. Laura continued acting sporadically incoherent and Jake went up to the receptionist a couple times to ask bogus questions about the paperwork. They figured this would buy Charlie the time he needed to free Hector, or at least slip him a mirror.
After a few empty offices behind the doors Charlie was opening, he found a room that had a set of double doors on the far side of it. He went in, opened them up ... but it was as empty as the others. He looked around a bit, but found nothing indicating Hector was there before or any indications of where he could be now. He walked back toward the double doors. Right when he swung them open, a guard grabbed him by the shoulders, through him up against the wall and patted him down. It wasn't the same guard that greeted them in the front but he was just as big.
What are you doing here? He asked.
Uh, uh, bathroom. I was looking for the bathroom.
Bullshit. Come with me.
As they walked back out towards the reception area, the guard continued:
You're not supposed to be back there. You could contaminate things.
I'm really sorry, I was just looking for the bath—
Yea, yea. Save the shit he responded.
When they turned the corner to the reception area, Charlie stopped in his tracks, shocked to see Dr. Feinstein standing over Jake and Laura while the guard cuffed them to the seats.
Oh, Charlie, how nice of you to join us, said Dr. Feinstein.
How do you know my name?
The guard behind Charlie pushed him forward and muttered:
Who said you could ask questions?
It's ok, Trevor, we are free people after-all. Unless of course skippers like these begin to meddle with your life under the guise of some self-righteous historical course correction. But that's a conversation for another day. I know your name, Charlie, the same way you know mine. You do your homework. The only difference here is that I’m also the professor that assigns the workload. And I do it in such a way that keeps you chasing your own tail and out of my hair for the most part. It's in my best interest to know who you are, when you are and where you annoying shits are at all times. Not dissimilar from it behoving you to try and know what I'm up to at all times.
Let us go Feinstein, said Jake defiantly.
Go? But you just got here. What kind of host would I be if I didn't offer you anything and just let you go? Trevor, get me a couple sterilized syringes, will you.
Sure thing boss, responded Trevor.
Feinstein reached into his white lab coat and pulled out a vial.
You see this, he said while waiving it in their faces. It's the first prototype of the cure. A one-shot-deal permanent vaccine for your disease. Your friend Hector’s blood was so prominent with the skippability gene, that it proved to be the perfect sample to design the cure against.
What did you do with him? Asked Laura sternly.
Don't worry yourself with him anymore young lady. I'll keep him safe and sound from now on. Until he's drained of his plasma, he’ll continue to be an essential part of my antidote after-all.
What we have is not a disease you fucking bigot, replied Laura. It's an agent for positive change.
Nonsense. It's playing God...and neither of you are him.
And you think you are? Asked Charlie? You skip too. What makes that okay in your sick head?
I skip to stop skippers. And once I heal you all, I'll take the serum myself.
Here you go boss, Trevor said as he handed him the syringes.
Here's what's going to happen, Feinstein said as he filled each of the syringes and squirted some out to get rid of the air bubble in them. I'm going to inject two of you with this. If it works as expected, your skipping days are over. Then we’ll use some more of your buddy Hector’s blood to make more. You'll have a window of about three minutes, if my calculations are correct, to take one last skip back to your baseline and work on living constructive and productive lives outside of this skipping nonsense.
Why are you doing this? Asked Jake.
Well, Dr. Lloyd Michaels who is the Chemist that first came up with the Trancetol formula is my half brother. Before our duly divorced parents met, I had a younger brother who became caught up in this skipping stuff back when none of us knew what it was. He even developed altruistic goals, similar to you all. Then one day he skipped and never came back. I lost him, and vowed to save everyone I could from this, from thereon out.
Right then, they all turned in the direction of a shattering sound they heard. The sound was of something breaking like a vase or window.
Go see what that was, Feinstein told Trevor.
Trevor went toward the direction of the noise. He passed by and scanned a few of empty offices. Then he reached Feinstein's office and noticed an open window that he walked towards and closed. He figured that's where the noise came from. It was probably someone breaking a bottle outside, or a car backing up into another's headlight, so he let down his guard.